Running from Dragons
by Professor Maka
Summary: Maka is a Princess who wants to be a Knight. Soul is the second born Prince of the Enchanted Forest who just wants to be himself. How will they manage angry parents, scheming wizards, and rampaging dragons? Find out in this Enchanted Forest Chronicles based AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my attempt at an _Enchanted Forest Chronicles_ based _Soul Eater_ AU. If you've never read the Enchanted Forest Chronicles, well, you should-it's awesome. **

**As should be obvious, I own neither _Soul Eater_ nor T_he Enchanted Forest Chronicles_. **

* * *

**Chapter 1 **

**In Which Princess Maka Gets Some Bad News**

Being the Princess of the Kingdom of Toure-on-Marsh wasn't all it was cracked up to be. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that every little girl supposedly dreamt of being a princess who lived in an idyllic castle in an idyllic kingdom that was peaceful and prosperous. She knew that that same proverbial girl also dreamt of being courted by knights and princes and worthy woodcutter's sons. In theory, she supposed, it might not sound so bad. In reality, it was all hogwash. The truth of the matter was, being a princess was slow, sure torture via boredom.

As Maka listened to her protocol teacher drone on about the sixteen proper ways to greet a Vesuvian monarch, she considered her situation and, not for the first time, wished to trade places with whichever twit was so eager to be a princess. She was sick to death of protocol and embroidery, dance lessons and singing lessons, etiquette and fashion. She would have gladly traded stations with the lowliest scullery maid, would have scrubbed pots for the rest of her days, if it meant that her free time was her own and that she could avoid learning two hundred different types of curtsies. As it was, when she wasn't learning how to stitch a perfect rose or properly scream when carried off by a rampaging ogre, she was forced to attend stuffy, boring formal functions, balls and parties and dinners full of silly, vapid, vain suitors who waited only for the proper opportunity to rescue her, and therefore, gain the right to wed her. For, of course, if one wished to wed a princess, one had to go about it properly, and that meant a proper rescue.

Yes, she was heartily sick of doing things the right way. In fact, her only real escape was through books. While claiming to be reading up on proper princessly activities, Maka in truth absconded from the library with every other type of book she could. She absorbed them all, eager to escape from her constrained royal space and into the wide world. She read books on cooking and on history, taught herself Latin and Greek, raided the books that belonged to the court magician, read books on fencing and archery and blacksmithing and architecture and anything else she could get her hands on. Through these books, she knew how to do many things—theoretically. Some, like magic and cooking and archery, she had been able to stealthily practice. Some had been more difficult to find the means to work at. However, for all the (possibly) practical knowledge she had absorbed, the books that had truly captivated her had been the tales of adventure, of knights who went on quests, protected the weak, and saved the land. Maka was born a princess, but if she had been given a choice, a real choice, she would have been a knight.

She knew that sounded strange, even a little silly. She had met many knights, and not one of them was anything like the ones she read about in stories. They tended, on the whole, to be vain and stuffy. But she wasn't anything like any princess she had ever read about either, so she had decided that there must be knights like those in the stories since she knew that the type of sweet, kind, empty-headed princesses that she had read about in those same stories were absolutely real, as she had met several.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the sudden silence. Her protocol teacher, Lady Azusa, was scowling at her.

"Ah, Princess, your hearing is finally returned. Now, then, can you remind me how one greets a Vesuvian King who has just been widowed?"

Maka just stared, her olive eyes flat. Caught daydreaming again. It would mean an earful from her father later, likely followed by his usual apologetic fawning, and Azusa would surely find some way to make her suffer for yet another transgression, but even that failed to bother her. Even that was no worse than her life of confined protocol, trapped in a gilded cage.

It wasn't until after dinner that she was called into her father's study. He had dined with his ministers, and as there were no functions, she had the rare evening to herself. She used the opportunity to quietly train with the sword she had long since snuck into her room, all the while claiming she had a headache and would be abed early that evening. When her chambermaid walked in on her, hair bound in pigtails instead of the normal shining curls her hair dresser forced onto her, dressed in breaches and tunic, swinging a sword around in the half-light, the poor girl looked like she might scream, her head turning every which way in search of what this brigand had done with her Princess. Oh, bother. How had she forgotten to lock the door?

"Tsugumi, it's me. It's Maka."

"Princess?" In the light from the hall, the woman still looked stunned, then hesitant.

"Yes, it's me," Maka repeated slowly, as if she were soothing a startled child, sheathing the sword and approaching her carefully. "I'm the princess. It's okay."

The maid nodded, her dark curls bobbing, then said timidly,

"Your fa..I mean, his Majesty, the King, wishes to see you." Maka nodded.

"Thank you, Tsugumi, I will be with him shortly. I just need to change." Maka expected the maid to run off to give her superior or the King the message, since any delay might mean trouble for the girl, but instead she went over to the large wardrobe and selected a suitable dress for her mistress to change into. When Maka looked at her questioningly, she smiled shyly.

"It's my job," she said by way of explanation. "Plus, you've gotten into enough trouble today."

"So you won't tell them about…" she waved a hand at the sword that she had just unbuckled and placed on the bed.

"I didn't tell them about all the books you sneak from the library, did I? Or the cooking we did?" Maka just smiled in response, and gave her a quick hug. Thank goodness it was Tsugumi and not some other maid. She was the closest thing the Princess had to a real friend; she should have known better than to worry over how the chambermaid would react, but she thought the sword might be a bit much even for her. For once, she was glad to be wrong.

With the chambermaid's help, she had gotten ready in a matter of minutes, a simple blue dress smoothed over her lithe frame, her dark blonde hair pinned up and topped by a circlet. She didn't really care for the circlet, but her protocol teacher insisted she wear some type of crown about the castle and especially in audience with her father, and she knew flouting convention now would only cause her more headaches. So a simple silver chain with a single small pearl rested on her brow, crown enough for inside the castle. When she entered his study, the door opened by a stiff guard and her presence announced formally, her father waved the guard away and surprised her by immediately embracing her with a wide smile. Normally, he reserved such embraces for after the lecture, and she felt the fine hairs on her neck prickle. Something was, most decidedly, wrong.

Maka peeled herself away from the exuberant red-headed monarch, eyeing him suspiciously. He wasn't even attempting a stern façade this time, his wide, fond smile beaming out at her from the few feet she had backed away. He was in his night clothes, soft blue silk underneath a white silk robe, yet still wore the heavy golden crown that signified his position. Maka had always hated that crown; jeweled and gaudy and overwrought, it reminded her of her father's own over-exuberance and overindulgences, the same tendencies that had driven her mother away. She had heard rumors and stories of her mother over the years, some of which suggested she now led a rather unconventional life, but they were only that. No one knew, in truth, what had happened to her. In many ways, Maka didn't want to know. She liked to imagine her mother had run off to have adventures of her own, but the truth was probably far more mundane, and the ex-Queen of Toure-on-Marsh was most likely the current Queen of some equally boring, tranquil land, equally as trapped as she had ever been. Just as trapped as Maka was now.

"Father," she began suspiciously, but cautiously, "it's good to see you. Is there.. something you needed?" His face fell at her tone and he cleared his throat.

"Mmmm… yes, actually. You will be leaving on a small tour of the Kingdom tomorrow, starting with the village of Kempe. Tsugami will help you to pack your things, but you should bring what you will need for an indefinite stay."

"In..definite?" Maka stuttered out.

"Uh, yes, that's the hope. You see, Lady Azusa has it on good authority that a dragon plans to raid the village tomorrow and we thought…"

"You thought what...?" She cut him off, appalled, her eyes narrowed in anger as she realized what they were plotting. "You want me to be captured by a dragon, don't you? To…to what? Be rescued and married off like some piece of meat? Forget it, no."

"But.. well… we thought you might like it. You've seemed do discontented here. We thought a change of scenery might…"

"I said no. I don't want to be some dragon's princess, left to cower in a cave until some idiot prince stumbles into the mountains to try to rescue me and gain your kingdom through marriage. No." She knew her voice was firm. She had dreaded, absolutely dreaded, the day when they would figure out a way to trap her into marrying. She was an only child, the only heir, and a princess. She was expected to marry, and at 20, expected to do so sooner than later. In some ways, she was surprised they had waited this long and she thanked every lucky star that her father was torn between protocol and his own personal desire that _no vile, lecherous beast ever lay his hands on his baby girl, _as ironic as that was coming from the most vile, lecherous beast in the kingdom. Maka wasn't sure what Azusa had finally said or done to convince him, but apparently, protocol had finally won out and they had concocted this…scheme was the only word for it. What to do now? She needed time to think. No way was she going to let some silly wannabe-hero rescue her, but King or not, even Spirit listened to Azusa. Now that he had finally agreed, there was no backing down. The woman was scary when crossed. If the protocol master was pushing this, then it was as good as done. The King stepped closer and Maka almost sighed as she recognized the stern face he put on when one of the nobles was making unreasonable demands-or when he felt that she required correction.

"You don't have a choice," he said, his voice firm. She could sense the regret in his tone, but it was only just audible. "Being a dragon's princess will help to finish off your education nicely and ensure your marriage to a suitable husband and future King." He raised a hand when she opened her mouth to protest, "your several times over Great-Grandmother, Queen Alianora, was a dragon's Princess when she was rescued by your many times Great-Grandfather King Stone, who helped build what was then a Duchy into a true Kingdom. The stories say she always insisted that what she learned there helped to make her a better Queen. You will make a good Queen someday, Maka, and this will help you in that." Maka considered trying to persuade her father that this was a mistake, but she could see it in the way his blue-green eyes wouldn't quite meet hers that this was decided, so she remained silent. Better to save her time and her breath to figure out what else to do. Her father was rarely firm with her, but when he was, there was no swaying him.

The King walked past her to the door, opening it and motioning the guard to re-enter.

"Escort the Princess to her room and keep a watch on her," he commanded. "And Maka, sweetheart? I will see you in the morning before you leave. Goodnight."

A few moments ater the door shut softly behind her, she heard giggling erupt and cringed. So he'd had one of his many conquests in the wings. It figured. Her trepidation over, this new turn of events momentarily replaced by disgust, she followed the guard, head held high, looking every inch the Princess.

Morning. She had until morning to figure out how she was going to get out of this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**During which Maka is Captured by a Dragon and Bides her Time**

After racking her brain all night, even going so far as to consider the cringe-worthy act of calling in her sickeningly overbearing fairy godmother, Maka finally decided that the best plan was to have no plan at all. Or rather, her plan was to wait for an opportunity to execute a better plan. She knew she would have to run away. The trick was finding the right time to do it, and she wouldn't know when that was until it reared up and smacked her in the face.

It sounded pathetic, and it was, but what else could she do? Her father was having her watched and she would go to Kempe _under guard _so planning to escape now was an exercise in futility. And who knew, maybe the dragon wouldn't come after all. That was Maka's hope. Dragons could be fickle. She hoped this one was.

In the morning, with little sleep and less hope, she dressed and prepared with the help of Tsugumi. Her father had insisted she wear her finest grown, heavy green brocade, thick with embroidery. She also wore her best crown, high and gold and jeweled. She looked like a queen and felt like a fool. As her chambermaid finished her last packing preparations, the younger woman's eyes shined with barely contained anguish. Maka patted her shoulder, unsure what else to do, and the maid burst into tears, hurling herself at her Princess with a firm hug around her middle.

"Oh Maka! I hate that they are doing this! I wish I could help!"

"It's okay, Tsugumi," she patted the girl's head, stroked her hair. "It'll be okay. Dragons don't harm their princesses. Really, I'll be fine."

The girl looked up with a sniff. "But…but…I'll miss you and…" Maka smiled down at her.

"You'll see me again."

"You…promise?"

"I promise." She hoped it was an oath she could keep.

Dressed, her trunk packed, it was time to go. As she entered the overwrought carriage she would be riding in, her father stopped her, his face a sobbing, ridiculous mess. Azusa stood off to the side, looking at the whole scene with disapproval as the King of Toure-on-Marsh took his daughter into his arms and blathered on about how much he loved her, how this was the right thing to do, she'd see, and how she'd be home soon but he'd miss her every day. Maka stood stiff in his embrace, appearing stoic in a way she could not feel. In truth, she was numb. She couldn't believe this was happening and wanted to bean her father over the head in sight of the entire court for forcing her into this. When they hysterical red-headed monarch was finally half-coaxed, half-pried away from her at the urging of the protocol master, Maka entered the carriage. She sat alone and in silence, wishing every moment she had been born anything but a princess.

The procession taking her to the tiny village of Kempe was far too grand for such a place. The whole of the village consisted of few mudbrick buildings with thatched roofs, and the small crowd that gathered to meet the Princess' group was hardly larger than the group itself. Like so many of the trappings of royalty, Maka found such a processional silly and impractical, but she wasn't given any say in the matter. As her group stopped, one of the soldiers led the Princess out of her carriage and down to a small, hastily erected wooden platform. She was expected to speak and she had no idea what to say. She tried to think of the protocol for such a situation, and finally decided that it really didn't matter here. These villagers would not be schooled in protocol.

"Good morning. I am Princess Maka of Toure-on-Marsh. I would like to thank you all for the warm welcome to your village." The villagers just looked at her with blank expectation for a moment. They had been forced here by royal pomp and silliness. That they wished nothing more than to return to their normal drudgery was clear in their eyes. Maka was about to go on when she heard gasps from the audience and saw dozens of eyes turn upwards. There was a shriek then a roar. She followed their collective gaze to see the approach of a dragon, felt the heat just above the village as it released a large plume of fire. It landed with a shrill screech in the middle of the village square and Maka almost squeaked in her fear. As it was, she managed to stand tall, only trembling slightly.

The dragon was massive, with shiny black scales and a large, thrashing tail. She had never seen a dragon, and its very presence dripped power, but that was not what had her jaw on the floor. The most surprising, most frightening thing about this dragon was that, extending from its massive torso were two long necks ending in two massive heads full of sharp, shining silver teeth. Maka was far from an expert on dragons, but she knew a thing or two and she had never read anything about a two-headed dragon. She was puzzled. She was terrified.

One of the heads, covered with lavender scales, looked her way as the black-scaled head with strange white markings surveyed the frightened villagers. The dragon seemed to be particularly interested in her entourage, which was cowering behind the various carriages and wagons in which they had arrive. Maka alone stood tall. After all, she was a princess. The dragon wasn't here to hurt her. At least, it wasn't supposed to be.

"Ah..ah! Th..there is a Princess, look Ragnarok! Sh..she's so pretty, I don't know how to deal with it! Sh..she's scared, too. Sh..sh...she reminds me of the little one, doesn't she?" the purple head stammered out, sounding almost timid, if a dragon could ever be said to sound timid.

"Just shut up and take her, Crona. We don't have time for this," the black head snapped back, their tail lashing to whip the purple head.

"R..Right," the purple head agreed. "P…princess, please come with us."

Maka wanted to run, but she stood her ground; she had known what was coming. Nonetheless, she didn't plan to go easily.

"And if I won't?" she countered, staring up at both heads defiantly, fists on her hips. The purple head looked confused, then turned towards the black head, who scoffed.

"Crona, you idiot, you're useless," it growled, before looking at the princess, lowering its head to be level with her eyes, "if you come without a fight, we will leave now and no gets hurt. If you don't, we level this pathetic village and take you anyway. Your choice." Maka let out a breath, and nodded.

"Fine. I'm coming," she walked forward and then motioned towards one of the wagons, the one that held her trunk, "my things are in there."

"W…we can't carry you and that," the purple head said, looking at the trunk.

"Screw your things, girly, you're coming with us," a claw swiped out to grab her and she let out an involuntary scream, one that would have made even Lady Azusa proud in its appropriate length and pitch, before being swiped up and placed somewhat roughly on the dragon's back. There were long, pointed ridges there and Maka just avoided being skewered by one. Instead, she used a ridge to hold on, her knuckles white with the force of her grip as the dragon lifted off and soared into the sky. They were on their way.

* * *

Maka suspected it would be awhile before she got the chance to escape. The odd dragon with two heads and two names, Crona and Ragnarok, deposited her unceremoniously just inside its cave several hours after snatching her from Kempe. Shortly after, Crona muttered something about a small cave for her and needing to tell mother before flying off. For half a second, as she watched the strange dragon's form take off and fade into the distance, Maka thought about just running then and there, even felt her feet begin to propel her, almost unbidden, closer to the mouth of the cave, but then thought better of it. That was what one of those featherbrained princesses she always read about would do, but she was no featherbrained idiot. She needed to keep her wits, use some common sense (even if, she often thought, sense were not really all that common). She was in the Mountains of Morning, unarmed and friendless. The Mountains were full of dragons and giants and worse; they were no place for anyone to be unarmed and friendless. She needed to bide her time, figure things out, and _then_ figure out a plan to get away. So instead of letting her feet do her thinking for her, she willed herself to turn from the mouth of the cave to explore her new surroundings.

The first thing she would need was a light. Here, close to the entrance, she could see, but the rest of the cave was pitch black. Well, she supposed, it was a good thing she had ignored princessly protocol and sneaked looking at those magic books, or else she'd be stuck in the dark.

"Illuminos," she said quietly, and a small, bright sphere of light appeared in her hand. She raised it in front of her and it cast its soft yellow glow back farther into the entry cave. At least now she wouldn't die by bungling into a pit or skewering herself on a stray blade in the dragon's hoard. That was something. Baby steps. She moved back into the cave, bypassing several larger cave entrances filled with all manner of items and jewels, junk and weaponry, before finally finding the cave she was looking for. She raised her sphere higher to get a better look around. The space was not large, cozy really, with walls colored a soft lavender that reminded her of the Crona head's scales, several mismatched but luxurious looking pieces of furniture, and pleasant looking landscape paintings spaced along the walls. The ridiculously large bed looked soft and was piled high with pillows. There was a wardrobe, a vanity with a pitcher and basin, a few chairs and a table, a desk, and a small sky blue sofa. If she were going to be stuck here for a bit, it would do very nicely, and Maka offered a silent thank you to whichever among her predecessors had put the effort into making it so comfortable.

Maka had spent the first day exploring and, using some simple magic, figured out a thing or two. To begin with, most of the items in the small cave that was meant for the resident princess were magical. The bed made itself and adjusted its bedding to the tastes of the occupant, the pitcher and basin filled with water of the desired temperature at a simple command, and the wardrobe was full of a wide selection of whichever type of clothes one happened to need at any given time, all in the right size. Maka had, upon making this discovery, immediately changed into a serviceable dress and ditched the ornamental crown and gown. She also discovered that each cave within the complex that belonged to the dragon could be lit up with a simple command and gesture combination; upon uttering the "illuminos" command and waving her hand just so, the soft looking moss that lined the entire complex would light up in the space she happened to occupy at the moment. This was both convenient and necessary since the small globe she could conjure on her own did not offer enough light to perform day to day functions by half, and she couldn't help but to respect how well designed this ostensibly natural space really was. Maka also soon discovered that deep inside was a large opening to a series of tunnels that led to the caves of other dragons. Having no wish to see other dragons, she stayed where she was and continued to explore.

Further exploration revealed to her just how vast this single cave complex was. She found several treasure caves which had some rather interesting magical artifacts, arms, and armor, what seemed to be the dragon's sleeping cave, a dragon sized dining cave, and a human sized kitchen area replete with all the magical comforts one might want. Yet, nothing could compare to her last discovery, and finding the library had been the highlight of her day, and if she were honest, maybe even her life. The massive space was lined with shelf upon shelf of books on every subject she could imagine and a few she could never have dreamt of (stumbling across _A Thousand and One Sexual Positions to Ensure a Heroic Male Heir _had rendered her a particularly dark shade of scarlet, she was sure.) Maka could get lost in there half a lifetime and never get bored. Somewhat embarrassing books aside, she couldn't help but to consider that maybe, just maybe, being a dragon's princess wouldn't be so bad if it meant spending her days in there.

That thought lasted her for at least a week. She saw the Dragon very little, and when she did, she tried to find out as much as she could. The Crona head was polite and even solicitous, if extremely nervous, and as Maka cautiously asked questions on the morning of her second day as a captive, Crona willingly, if haltingly, answered them. When she complimented the cave, its comforts and conveniences and many treasures, wanting to remain on the dragon's good side for the time being and to find out as much as she could, Crona explained with something like embarrassment,

"Th..thanks, but you should really be thanking m..my mother. This was h..her cave until she became Queen."

"Oh," Maka responded, maintaining her pleasant smile, "well, I'm sure you've kept it up well and I am glad it is so nicely furnished. Your library is especially impressive!" If Maka didn't know better, she might have thought the lavender hued head had blushed, but of course that was absurd—dragons didn't blush. Did they? She was even more confused by the black head's response as he chuckled harshly and muttered,

"Like we give a shit about your comfort or cave upkeep. The Bitch Queen told us to nab a princess, so we nabbed a princess. You can go to hell for all we care, just as long as you stay put and out of our damned hair."

"Ragnarok! Y…you know that's not true. Sh…she's our Princess. It's im..important she feel at h..home," the head looked down directly at Maka, "y..you are welcome to wh..whatever we have that will make y..you comfortable," then turning to Ragnarok she almost whispered, "w..we don't want h..h..her to end u..up like the l..little one." The black head didn't respond, but the sound he made was something like the draconic version of a snort. Maka felt it was probably best to change the subject—who knew what a dragon arguing with itself was capable of—but wished she could ask more about this "little one." It was the second time she had been compared to it.

Instead of sating her curiosity on that front, Maka cautiously asked why they wanted a princess at all. Ragnarok had mentioned that the Queen had ordered it and she wondered what that meant. Again, Crona was the one who answered,

"M…medusa w..wants us to h..help with her p…plans as Q..Queen, but she says to do that we n..need to g..gain more respect. S..so sh..she told us to c..capture our own p..princess." The Ragnarok head cackled at that, commenting

"Shyeah, because your pansy ass wouldn't let us decide if we wanted to be male or female _decades_ after we should have, so we got stuck this way. Maybe you shoulda thought that window could close, eh idiot? When Mommy-Dearest tried to make us decide, it was too freakin' late, boo freakin' hoo for us. I _told_ you we shoulda just been male."

"B..but I didn't know h..how to deal with deciding. It was for life!" the purple head stammered. The black head rolled its eyes and their tail suddenly whipped around to bean Crona in the side of the head.

"Yeah, because your lame-ass couldn't settle on a hot dog or a taco, we became the bloody joke of the Mountains of Morning. So, because of idiot here," the black head turned its gaze on the princess, surprising her by addressing her directly, "the bitch thought it would help our case if we had a princess, and we got stuck with your scrawny, worthless ass."

"Ragnarok!" Crona had recovered and practically hissed at the other head. Maka watched them bicker back and forth for a few moments, about _her _no less, and soon saw the wisdom in making a discreet exit into her own chamber. She had wanted to ask several more questions, not the least of which was why they had two heads at all, but decided against it; better not to unwittingly offend a dragon, especially one that was already, literally, at war with itself.

Since the dragon was often absent, off serving the Queen (though she really had no idea what that actually entailed,) Maka had plenty of time in the library, and since the dragon had assured her she was welcome to whatever she found, she did not hesitate to stack her own room full of books of interest. Several intrigued her, including two journals, one marked Medusa and the other Eibon, but she set those aside for later. For now, she wished to read up on her new surroundings.

On the fourth evening, Maka got a visit from a few of the neighboring Princesses. They came in a small group, dressed formally, all three with sparkling crowns of gold. They were, all of them, as silly as she expected, though in different ways. Princess Anya, a long limbed, light haired beauty from Linderwall, was mildly intelligent, but seemed to think the world revolved around her, Princess Meme of Aronia, pretty and shapely, was kind hearted but quiet and not at all bright, and Princess Kim, striking with her pink hair and otherworldly features, seemed sort of mercenary. They spent their hour together chatting over tea, with Maka serving them delicate pastries provided by the pantry. When they had shown up unannounced, she was torn between elation at seeing anyone else in this lonely place and disgust at those three someones being a pack of ridiculous princesses. That set of mixed feelings had only continued as her occasional interest in them and what they could tell her battled with her annoyance at their various levels of silliness. Most of the conversation was dominated by Anya, who droned on and on about how prestigious it was to be a Dragon's Princess and how it would surely net her a rich, handsome, famous, powerful husband, which was all she seemed to care about. Kim generally seconded Anya's opinions, but became more interesting when she revealed that was actually a fairy princess by showing off, for the briefest moment, her gossamer wings, which came and went at her whim. Maka would have liked to have found out more about the Land of the Faeries that was her home, but Kim, much like Anya, was far too fixated on her prospects to attend to her questions. However, Maka had gotten some useful information in the form of gossip. Finally done mock-lamenting their sad captivity while simultaneously gushing over their prospects of a good marriage due to said sad captivity, Anya had leaned in conspiratorially and stage whispered,

"So, what is it like, being the Princess of the notorious Gorgon anyway?" Maka just blinked.

"Gorgon?"

"Your Dragon. They call it the Gorgon, a fearsome, two-headed beast," she said in a low voice.

"Oh, mmm…it's alright, I suppose. They have a very nice library."

"A nice…library?" Kim scoffed. "Really, Princess Maka, you'd think you had more important things to consider."

"Not really," Maka responded, her look even. Kim let out an almost unprincessly snort,

"I suppose it figures that the Gorgon would end up with the nerd-princess. My dragon Mosquito told me that the silly thing was sexless well past the age of choosing, a laughing stock among its kind. The only reason the Gorgon isn't laughed right out of the Mountains is because of who its mother and aunt are," Kim leaned in and lowered her voice as she continued, "Medusa is feared far and wide, even among the dragons. She is just as powerful as her sister and twice as mean, so it's said. Everyone knows that 'Queen' was only a ceremonial title until she claimed the long-unused position to be a thorn in the King's side. _No one _wants to get in the middle of that, and that's just where your dragon is, so people give it wide berth." Maka just shook her head,

"Your dragon…Mosquito you said? He told you all of this?"

"Well, not exactly," the pink haired princess looked a little embarrassed. "I actually heard him talking with another dragon. But it doesn't make it any less true. And that isn't even everything…" She lowered her voice again, this time to the same type conspiratorial stage whisper Anya was fond of,

"The real problem is that Arachne is only the _acting _King; the real King, until proven truly dead, is Asura, but he disappeared along with the stone they use to choose the king years ago. Without the stone to fix the new ruler, Arachne dealt and threatened her way into being elected King. Mosquito insists that she is the first dragon in a thousand years to rule through fear, as he thinks it should be. She's a ruthless monarch who plans to subjugate more than only dragons."

Maka shuddered in response. She knew Kim was trying to play with her fears, and hated to admit she was partially succeeding. If even part of that were true, then they should all be afraid. A powerful dragon king who wanted to rule the world could be a problem for just about everyone. She was startled from these thoughts by Anya's voice, who airily mentioned,

"It's such a shame for you! I'm quite pleased with my dragon. If only you could have been taken by another like her instead of that _thing. _ I've heard my dragon Mizune whisper to her friends that the Gorgon is a sad, failed experiment, the product of the mother playing with dark forces that are best left alone. Of course, it will probably dampen your prospects of finding a suitable match considerably, I should think. Even many of the bravest knights will not wish to face such a monstrosity," her smile was almost snide. Maka wanted to punch her, not because she cared about making a good match, quite the opposite actually, but because this vapid, self- centered waste of space actually thought she did. She managed to keep her fist firmly under the table, and Anya continued,

"Anyway, I'd keep away from the King and Queen if you can. No sense getting close to that mess."

Soon after, the group made their goodbyes, with the largely quiet Meme giving her a friendly smile and hug. Maka was only too happy to see them go. While she could only agree silently with Anya that the Dragon King and Queen were best avoided (as much as it pained her to admit that the woman was right about anything,) since both were related to the Gorgon, she didn't think it would remain possible to avoid them both indefinitely. Still, she was becoming comfortable here. The Gorgon wasn't so bad and was hardly around anyway, and besides, it had a fantastic library.

Yes, in spite of any worries about the state of Dragon politics, those worries were far removed from her day to day life, and for a good week and a half, Maka settled in and enjoyed herself. There was no hurry just now, and she still had no plan. Honestly, it was some of the best time she had spent in her royal life up until that point; the Gorgon asked nothing of her, too busy with its mother to pay her much mind, the magical comforts kept her fed and cared for, and she had unlimited access to a kitchen, magic, weapons, and the most well-stocked library she had ever laid eyes on. As her time was almost completely her own, she practiced cooking and swordplay and magic and read voraciously. It was wonderful.

Her complacency finally fled, however, as her reading was abruptly interrupted one evening by shouts and thumps outside. She wasn't sure what it could be. The dragon was still away, and she didn't relish the thought of dealing with any other dragons. It almost sounded like a battle, and as Maka hurried to the entrance to figure out what was going on, she quickly found out that it really was one. The Gorgon was engaged with what appeared to be a knight, and the knight was losing. Badly. Maka watched in fixed amazement as the blonde, lanky, heavily armored man bellowed out upon sighting her,

"I, Sir Hiro, will defeat the foul dragon to rescue you, fair Princess!"

only to be lashed mercilessly by a swipe by said foul dragon's tail to hit the wall with a sickening thud. As the poor man rose to his feet, the dragon unceremoniously took him up in its claws and then, much to Maka's mixed awe and horror, rose up with the man only to drop him. The princess looked away. She didn't want to know what exactly happened from there, even though she was certain no one could survive such a fall.

Maka was also certain of two more things: The first was that she needed to start planning her escape before more rescuers came, because eventually, inevitably, one would get lucky and then she would be stuck marrying the idiot. The second was that she would actually regret running away; she was really going to miss that library.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

** In Which Prince Soul Leaves the Castle and Meets a Knight**

Soul should have known that this day was going to be eventful. It was unusually quiet in the Enchanted Forest, always a bad sign; if nothing small happened out in the Forest, then something big was bound and determined to come along. He knew this. He knew most things that one person could possibly know about the place, having lived there all his life and coming from a long line of rulers who had also lived here all their lives, but that didn't make the forest any less dangerous for him. He wasn't the current Bearer of the Sword, nor would he likely ever be the Bearer of the Sword; in that sense, he was simply another denizen of the forest, and as such, subject to its many strange rules. He could get in and out as he pleased, but that was about that. He couldn't command anyone and he certainly couldn't access the forest's vast magic as his mother did. That was the way of things here. So when the heavily armored knight came barreling into him, he supposed he should have expected it. Okay, maybe not expected _that _exactly, but something like it. One minute he was standing at the edge of the Forest, eyeing the peaks of the Mountains of Morning speculatively, and the next he was being crashed into, a mass of flesh and armor pinning him to the mossy forest floor.

His morning had started off ordinarily enough. Kid, the odd, obsessive castle steward had given him a hard time about his clothes being asymmetrical as he encountered Soul raiding the kitchen, before commenting offhandedly,

"The Queen will be most displeased if you leave now. She's planning a reception for the early afternoon and I believe she anticipates your presence." Soul shrugged him off. He liked Kid—truth be told, the mysterious young magician-come-steward was one of the few people he considered a friend—but the guy was way too uptight. Yes, it was his job, but still.

"She'll live," the Prince responded, before sealing up his pack stuffed with food and striding purposefully towards the back door of the kitchen, which led conveniently out of the castle. Soul always stopped in the kitchen before one of his little expeditions—not only could he get provisions there, but his mother wouldn't be caught dead in a room meant for _servants_. The kitchen was one of his favorite places in the castle because it had food, a fireplace, and most importantly, no family members, but it wasn't the only place he could go to be alone; while the rambling scrambling castle was a nightmare for a guy like Kid, who found reason to obsess over its ridiculous features daily, for Soul it was ideal. With so many secret spaces and byways, it was easy to avoid people as Soul had done this morning. Kid had only run into him on accident, and only because he was one of the castle staff; royalty should not be in the kitchen, of all places. Decorum demanded as much. Soul had just never given a damn about decorum.

As the Prince made his way out of the Castle, the steward followed him only as far as the door.

"Yes, she will indeed live, your highness, but you might not," the man managed with a blank face. "I do believe this gathering was planned specifically for your benefit, and a number of eligible young ladies were invited." Soul couldn't stifle his shudder. Princesses. Why was his mother always trying to set him up with Princesses?

"All the more reason not to be there," he responded caustically before walking off.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," the steward called after Soul, who looked back with a lopsided grin for just long enough to see the steward brushing down his black suit, his strange black hair with the white stripes on one side as striking and odd as his golden eyes, not that Soul was one to talk with his quasi-albinism.

"Wouldn't dream of it," the Prince called back and then, without a second look, made his way off the castle grounds.

He'd then taken his eerily uneventful path through the forest, spent a few equally quiet minutes gazing at the peaks, and then, out of the clear blue sky, found himself here, crumpled in a heap of flesh and armor on the ground.

"What the Hell?" He heard himself exclaim even as a most unknightly squeak of surprise came from above. Soul felt limbs flail then let out an umph of pain when armored elbows and knees jabbed into him. Then, suddenly, the weight was gone and the knight was looking down at the prone prince. He was the oddest Knight Soul had ever seen. He wore head to toe armor, including a full helmet that covered his face, but that wasn't at all what surprised him. What the prince found odd was that this fully armored and armed knight was short. Very short. Even viewing him from the ground, with the man standing over him and offering a hand to help him up, Soul would have been shocked if the knight cleared five feet. Well, this was the Enchanted Forest after all. Stranger things than vertically challenged knights stalked about the place daily.

Soul took the offered hand with a quiet thanks, then began to dust himself off. The knight muttered an apology, his voice strange, high and echoey under the helmet, then exclaimed.

"If you are alright, I'll just be on my way, then. Sorry again!"

Soul shook his head.

"Just a minute," the prince held up his hand. These types of encounters in the Forest were rarely coincidence, or so he'd always been told, so it was better to find out what was going on. If the knight just ran off it would very likely cause Soul trouble down the road.

"Sorry there's no t…." Whatever else the knight meant to say was drowned out by a furious roar from the same direction the knight had come from.

"Run!" He heard the too high voice echo from the helmet.

"Wha…?"

"JUST RUN!" The Knight screamed, grabbing his hand and yanking him after. So they ran, Soul wondering just what in bloody blessed name the Forest was going on even as he was pulled along, earsplitting roars bombarding them from overhead, just over the canopy of the trees. And then... suddenly, silence. The forest had shifted, Soul could sense the shift, and with the movement, they left whatever stalked the knight behind. Knowing this, Soul suddenly pulled them both to a stop. The knight panted within the helmet and tried to yank him forward again, but Soul stood his ground, shaking his head, which was hanging down, his hands on his knees.

"It's gone, whatever it is. For now," he managed between breaths. "Mind telling me what the hell it was and why it was chasing us?" The knight took a few minutes to calm himself, then finally decided to lean against a tree to rest. He looked at Soul through his helmet.

"It's a dragon," the knight finally responded, his voice still high but not as squeaky. "A very angry dragon. And it's not after _us_, it's after me—though I'm sure it would eat _you_ if you'd stayed put."

"And how," Soul was both curious and incredulous at once, "did you manage to piss off a dragon so badly that it's still chasing you?" The knight shrugged, the armor making a strange noise of metal knocking metal as he did so.

"I ran away. Dragon's don't take kindly to losing their property."

"Wha?" Soul could tell his jaw was hanging open the slightest bit in his confusion and closed it promptly. It made no sense. He might not be an expert on dragons, but he knew they didn't keep knights captive. They fought them, they ate them, they chased them off, but they didn't keep them. What kind of madness, exactly, had he stumbled into, or rather, what type had stumbled into him? He shook his head.

"That doesn't even make sense," the Prince insisted. "Dragon's don't keep knights." The knight just shrugged again.

"Anyway," the armored man responded in that same odd, too-high, echoey voice, "if he's gone, I'll leave you to whatever it is you were doing. Sorry again." The knight pushed off from the tree and started to walk away, but Soul grabbed his arm.

"Wait a minute," the prince said, shaking his head. "You can at least tell me your name. I know a lot about the forest. Maybe I could give you some advice." Soul wasn't sure why he didn't let the troublesome knight walk off, except for that same knowledge that such encounters in the forest always meant something, always had a catch. That, and he was oddly curious about the strange little man. There was something odd, something off, and he couldn't help wanting to figure out what it was. He heard a heavy sigh woosh around within the confines of the knight's helmet, then the knight paused again, tilting his head to look his companion over. Soul knew what the man was seeing—odd white hair in disarray, barely held in check by his thin green headband, blood red eyes, brown trousers and a green tunic with a thick brown belt holding a sheathed blade and several belt pouches. Bow and quiver slung on his back, along with a small pack. He looked like a forester rather than a prince, which was just how he preferred it. Not that many such men inhabited this particular forest, but outsiders wouldn't know that. His strange looks tended to be ignored within the confines of the forest; most things here were strange.

The knight finally nodded, once, whether in acquiesce or approval or some mix of the two, Soul couldn't say, before holding out a hand.

"I'm Mah..Max."

"Soul," he offered in turn, taking the knight's hand and shaking it once. Like the rest of him, it was on a far smaller scale than one would expect from a knight, even with the armor. Soul then continued, too casually, "So... you're running from a dragon?" The knight nodded.

"Well, the forest is a pretty good place for that. There are things that even a dragon would shy away from in here, and it shifts around enough that it makes it easy to lose a pursuer. Plus, I'd imagine a large dragon would have a tough time navigating between the massive trees and it's impossible to track someone well from above them. All in all, I'd say you've come to the right place if you want to avoid recapture, Sir Max."

"Just Max is fine," he said quickly. "And is that what happened? The forest shifted?" Soul nodded.

"It does that. A lot, actually. It can make it damned tough to get where you want to go, but it's pretty convenient when you don't want to be found."

"You sound like you speak from experience," Max commented mildly. Soul shrugged noncommittally. Max had done so several times and two could play at that ridiculous little game.

The truth was that Soul spent a lot of time losing himself in the forest. As the second born Prince of the Enchanted Forest, the son of the Queen, people expected things from him. He had grown up learning magic and sword play, politics and etiquette. In these things, however, as in seemingly all things, he was always second. Second born, second best. His brother Wes, or Prince Wesley to the masses, was first in everything. The better Prince, the better Magician, the better Swordsman. Hell, he was even the better brother. Wes was the real Prince; Soul was just the spare. Everyone knew Wes would be the next ruler, the next King. No one doubted that. Charming, talented, intelligent, Wes was everything Soul was not. Of _course_ the sword would choose him. Wes had been groomed for that from the time he could crawl and everyone expected it of him. And Soul? Sure, people expected things from him, but they had long since ceased to believe he would ever be anything but a third wheel.

It was always all about Wes, and Soul was supposed to be there to do as his family wished, to support his brother. He wasn't Soul—he was Prince Soul, brother to Prince Wesley, second son of the current Queen, and that was all he would ever be. Soul was tired of it all. Let Wes have the throne, let him have the attention, just so long as they left him alone. He was tired of all the expectations, tired of being second best. So he lost himself in the forest as much as he could, much to his mother's annoyance. Sure, the Queen could always find him when she needed to if she took the time and effort to do it, but lately she had almost altogether ceased bothering. He would get an earful when he finally made his way back to the castle because he was tired of sleeping on the ground or wanted a real, hot meal, but that was all he would get. Sometimes, he thought about leaving the forest, about removing himself entirely from his mother's reach—it was why he had gazed at the mountains so longingly, why he always did—but he never ran. At heart, he supposed, he was afraid. Sure, he wanted to be just Soul, but if he wasn't Prince Soul, then who was he really? He didn't know. Maybe he was nothing, nobody, an empty diadem, and that thought, that possibility, was what scared him most of all. So he stayed.

"Anyway," Max's voice pulled him from his thoughts, "I should go. Thanks for telling me about the forest, and sorry for—you know—running you over."

"I think I'll come with you for awhile, actually."

"Why?" Max's odd voice sounded suspicious.

"Nothin' better to do. Plus, it's obvious you know absolutely squat about this forest because the first thing you would know if you knew anything at all is that few things here happen by accident. If you barreled into me, then we should probably stick together until we figure out why. _If_ you can stand my presence for a little longer, that is."

"Hum," was the only reply, managing to be inelegant and noncommittal all in one unintelligible syllable. Soul just stood, stared, and waited. Eventually, his foot began to tap almost of its own volition as the armored figured stared back at him, or at least he assumed the knight stared at him since his head was pointed in his direction. Behind that helmet, he could be looking at nothing or anything. Finally he heard another whoosh of breath and a muttered,

"Fine. But only until we figure out why I ran into you or whatever," before the knight began to move forward again. Soul stared after him for a moment, marveling at just how odd his movements were. He did not have the gait of a seasoned warrior, especially not one who wore heavy armor. The knight looked awkward even as he strode purposefully forward. Yes, this one was strange.

Just then, the knight turned back, calling over his shoulder to his new companion,

"You coming or not?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry," Soul called back somewhat awkwardly, rubbing his hand through his white mess of hair before hurrying after. They hadn't gone far when there was a very loud crash from somewhere in front of them, startling them both to a halt.

Oh yes, it was definitely going to be an eventful day.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: And here it is, the long overdue fourth chapter! I finally know exactly where I want this to go, and I have half of the next chapter already written, so the next update should be much quicker. Enjoy and as always, thanks for reading and reviewing.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**In Which They Meet a Wizard and Acquire a Stolen Sword**

As it turned out, they decided to head towards the sound. After the large crash, the Forest had gone eerily silent and as much as common sense told him they should go any other way, something tugged him forward and Max just shrugged non-committally when Soul said,

"I think we should check it out." The prince thought he caught a slight shake of the head from his companion, but he wasn't looking straight at the knight and it could just as well been a trick of the light.

So they'd run, Max clanking loudly, making Soul cringe with every ridiculously loud step, moving in the direction from which they'd heard the crash, the direction in which Soul's instincts were screaming at him to move, faster, hurry.

When they arrived in the clearing, there wasn't really all that much to see. There was a sword standing in the middle, sticking point down into the moss, and not much else. Then they heard a groan and their eyes shifted to a very large tree, one of many circling the clearing, only this one was leaning precariously backward. At the base of the tree, head and shoulders on the ground, rear end up against the bark, came the source of the moan. It was a man, or at least, it appeared to be a man. He wore strange black armor that only covered his chest and half his legs—Soul could tell because the warrior's bare calves and arms were sprawled to either side of him. There was a sword sheathed on his wide black belt, askew at an odd angle, and he appeared to be conscious, but distracted by his pain. Another groan escaped, and Soul's eyes were drawn to the man's head. His hair was blue. A light, turquois-hued, obnoxious shade of blue. The white-haired Prince blinked and walked closer, thinking it must be a trick of the light. Nope. Still blue. He shook his head as he heard Max speak,

"What…is this?"

"I don't know," he responded. And he didn't. Clearly, the man at the base of the tree had been thrown somehow and had yet to fully recover. Based on the condition of the tree, the Prince suspected the man might have broken his spine, but wasn't sure and wasn't ready to check just yet because he suddenly realized why the sword in the middle of the clearing seemed oddly familiar. He felt the tug again, this time moving him towards the sword. It seemed familiar because it _was_ familiar. Somehow, someway, his mother's sword, the Queen's Sword, was standing tip down in the spongy moss, unattended, in the middle of the forest where it most certainly did not belong.

He walked toward it even as he heard footsteps moving the other way. The knight had had pulled out of whatever stunned daze he had been in and was moving in the direction of the blue-haired man. Soul just kept walking to the sword, inexplicably drawn there as if he were a stray bit of metal and it a giant magnet, its pull undeniable. He held out his hand and reached for it, grasping the hilt just as he heard a loud scream of,

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY SWORD!" and felt a surge of vibration in the hilt. He swung it around, instinct rather than thought driving him, and heard the roar of a massive wind gust as it smashed towards the Prince and the sword. He braced himself, not knowing what else to do, closed his eyes and… the roaring was gone. The sword hummed with power as the wind died around him.

"WHAT THE….?" Soul heard the warrior bellow and opened his eyes. The blue-haired man, somehow, someway, was standing now, his own sword out, his mouth agape. Apparently, his spine wasn't broken. Max was a few feat away, brandishing his own weapon, a large, curved blade with an odd black and red zig-zag pattern, threateningly. The Queen's Sword, meanwhile, flew from Soul's hands to float in the air. There was loud music, a rush of wind, and a chorus of voices that came together, singing loudly,

"ALL HAIL THE BEARER OF THE SWORD!" Soul blinked as the blade hovered and spun, glimmering in the air before him, then reached out to grab it. This day just got stranger and stranger. He looked at it for a moment, unsure what to make of any of this, before the knight's voice pulled him from his awe.

"What…was that?" his companion asked as his helmet swiveled in the Prince's direction. The blue-haired man was also staring at him, mouth still gaping, eyes wide. Soul just shook his head.

"Dunno, and it's not important right now," he thumbed towards the blue-haired man, "we should figure out what's going on with him." Max stood stunned a moment longer, shaking his head, but then complied, whirling on the other man. Meanwhile, the blue-haired warrior, having finally re-gathered his wits, screamed,

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU—?" Soul cut him off, raising his free hand.

"No," he shook his head, looking down at the blade in barely contained awe, then back to the blue-haired man across the clearing. "The real question is, what in the hell are you doing with the Queen's Sword?" There was steel in his voice, and the man shook his head in reply and let out a breath.

"I couldn't touch it," he was muttering to himself. His eyes met Soul's and he screamed, "HOW COULD YOU TOUCH IT WHEN A GOD LIKE ME COULDN'T?" Soul let out a sigh. Somehow, this idiot was responsible for the blade being in this clearing, that much was obvious. He had no idea what had just happened, no idea what was going on; he'd need to get to the bottom of it and get the man back to the castle. He was trying to figure out how to approach the strange warrior when he heard soft words and then saw shimmery bonds appear. They slithered around the surprised blue-haired man, shining magical ropes binding his legs, his feet, pinning his arms to his sides. The captive warrior grunted, trying to break them, dropping the sword pinned to his side in the struggle, but they held him fast. Soul looked to Max and raised an eyebrow.

"Since when do knights know magic?"

Max shrugged in response, carefully picking up the other warrior's odd black blade and putting it into a crumpled bag he produced from a belt pouch. The bag was not large, yet the sword disappeared completely into its shallow depths. Max recrumpled the clearly magical bag and replaced it in the pouch.

"Magic is useful," his metallic voice echoed back in Soul's direction a bit smugly before turning to the other man. "Now, mind telling us what's going on here?" The knight gestured around the clearing, towards the tree, and back to the sword. The blue-haired man was still struggling against the bonds, grunting and straining. Then, he stopped struggling physically and seemed to concentrate for a moment, and finally cursed.

"The bonds feed off the magic of the one they bind," the knight intoned casually. "They won't be broken until I choose to break them." The other warrior turned absolutely red at this, seemed about to explode, then let out a long breath instead.

"Fine, whatever," he responded, leveling his gaze between them, then shouting, "BUT THE GREAT WIZARD BLACK*STAR ISN'T GOING TO FORGET THIS!" His warning given, he paused, continued to look at them for several moments, and then continued in an even voice, "So, what do you want to know? About the sword? Yeah, I stole it. So what? I'm the man who will surpass God, and it's a sword worthy of a God!"

Soul was about to press for details, but Max beat him to it.

"You're a wizard?" he seemed surprised and started looking around. "I thought wizards used staffs?" The self-proclaimed wizard attempted a shrug against his bonds, which came out oddly constrained. "Most do. I don't."

"That doesn't even…" Max shook his head in confusion, but as Soul cleared his throat, the knight muttered, "I guess we can figure that out later," then pressed on.

"So you stole the sword—from where?"

"The castle, duh," the blue-haired man rolled his eyes, which were an oddly dark shade of blue-green. Soul wanted to ask how he'd managed to steal it, but he let Max continue the questioning for the moment.

"And then what happened?"

The wizard, he'd called himself Black*Star, looked at the knight for a moment, then let out another audible breath.

"I high tailed it before anyone could figure out it was gone, then I got here and it seemed safe enough so I… Uh…" he looked between his two captors. Soul thought he looked embarrassed, maybe even a little red. "I sort of tried to use it, you know, draw it."

"And…?" Max urged, his high voice full of eager curiosity.

"And nothing," Black*Star responded, his teeth clenching together in anger or frustration or some mix of the two. "The damned thing won't let me use it."

"That's it? 'Nothing?'" Max sounded incredulous. "Then how did that tree get that way, how did you end up on your—" The blue-haired warrior was turning more and more red with every word. Finally he shouted,

"FINE—WHEN I TRIED TO DRAW THE DAMNED THING IT HURLED ME BACK INTO THE TREE. HAPPY NOW?" The man's teeth clenched back down; he was seething. Unable to move, Black*Star's pent up energy was palpable. Max seemed surprise, just shaking his head again at the oddness of it all, but it was nothing less than Soul had expected. The sword was designed, above all, to destroy wizards; of course it would have knocked any wizard fool enough to try to draw it on his ass. Soul was just shocked this Black*Star had managed to steal it to begin with.

"I wouldn't say I'm happy, but I think we've heard enough for now," Soul responded. "We're going to need to get you back to the castle. Pretty sure the Queen doesn't take kindly to wizards trying to steal her sword, and I'm thinking she'll want it back." Soul removed his own plain and entirely ordinary blade from its sheath to replace it with the Queen's Sword. He looked up again to suggest that they get moving when he saw that they were both staring at him, unblinking.

"What?" he finally said, uncomfortable.

"What Queen?" Max asked, and at the same time, "How did you know?" came from Black*Star. Soul looked at Max first,

"The Queen of the Enchanted Forest," he said, shaking his head. "You really don't know anything about this place, do you?" He turned his eyes back to the wizard.

"I know because I live in the forest. Anyone here would know."

"Still doesn't explain how you used it or what the hell all that 'Bearer of the Sword' crap was," he sounded sullen.

"He does have a point about the music and...whatever it was that happened when you drew it," Max added.

Soul just turned a sharp toothed grin to both of them and shrugged,

"The sword must just like me better." Black*Star began to sputter in incredulity, but Max kept looking at him.

"Even if that's true," his metallic voice echoed from within the helmet, "it still doesn't explain the music…"

The prince sighed in response. "I don't know, either. Must have something to do with me rescuing the sword from that guy," he thumbed towards Black*Star. "Whatever the case, we should start moving. It's going to be dark soon and we're going to have to sleep somewhere, not to mention figuring out how to get him back to the castle."

Max nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He muttered soft words under his breath again, and suddenly, the bonds began to change. The cords of energy around the wizard's legs snaked around each ankle, then came together in the middle with a long length between them, giving their captive the ability to walk but not run. At the same time, the bond that had been around his thighs slithered away and lengthened, the end wrapping around the knight's wrist.

"There," Max said, clearly pleased with himself. "You have no idea how exciting it is that this is working properly!"

Soul blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, this is the first time I've gotten to test it, really. On a live person, I mean," he replied sheepishly. Black*Star started to sputter incoherently about not being some damned guinea pig and Soul just shook his head. Max had to be the oddest little knight he had ever heard of, let alone met.

"Anyway," his metallic tone was bright. "We should get moving!"

"How long will the bonds hold?" Soul asked.

"Oh, indefinitely, I think," Max made a small gesture towards the captive. "They run off of his energy and magic. They won't break unless I free him or he passes out, maybe not even then. And they keep his magic in check by constantly syphoning it. Honestly, dragon magic really is amazing…" he seemed about to go off on some tangent about the wonders of such magic when Black*Star put in.

"Wait," he looked down at his bonds, "this is dragon magic? How did you…?" The knight just shrugged a little sheepishly, if a motion performed in full armor and accompanied by an odd clang and scrape of metal could be called sheepish, and avoided answering.

"Let's go!" He started walking and the wizard followed, having no other choice. Soul was pretty sure that the blue-haired man was going to put up a fight at some point, but he seemed to have decided to cooperate for the time being; at least that much was going right. Everything else was a mess of confusion. A diminutive knight who knows dragon magic being hunted by a dragon, an armored wizard without a staff who steals powerful, magical, swords, and then, the sword itself and whatever it had done after he'd grabbed it and fended of the wizard's magic… he had no clue what to make of any of it. The forest just kept lobbing curveballs at him and he had no idea how to hit them away. Hopefully, his mother would figure it all out when he got home because, at this point, he felt like he was in about 20 feet over his head and sinking ever deeper. He cringed internally; he really _must_ be desperate if he wanted his mother's help.

It was getting dark quickly, the odd blue of twilight casting them all in its eerie glow as they came to another clearing. Soul knew the forest fairly well, but it was shifting even more often than usual today and he wasn't quite sure where they were. Then he noticed that the clearing was occupied by a small, neat white house, looking faintly blue in the half light, and stopped. He'd never seen this place before, though the forest was vast enough that he'd never seen much of it before, but the abodes of Enchanted Forest-dwellers were to be approached with caution always and avoided in general. Dangerous people and creatures inhabited this place; any who were not would not long survive. Max had kept moving, mounting the steps of the small house eagerly,

"Wonderful! Hopefully, the owner will let us stay!"

"No, wait—" he didn't get to finish as the knight knocked on the door, the wizard standing behind him, fidgeting. Crap, crap, crap, Soul repeated in his head, rushing over to get the knight and their captive back and away.

"Max, get over here," Soul ran up the steps, taking them two at a time. He had just made it to knight's side when the door began to swing inward, light flooding into the clearing.

Too late, he thought and fingered the hilt of the Queen's Sword as he steeled himself for the next curveball.


End file.
